Stitches & Compassion
by TamakiCat
Summary: James comes back from a mission that left his with a wound on his thigh. Q, secretly fancying Bond, wants to help and comfort him. Things unfold as he tries his best to treat him... What has James on his mind? Will he return Q's affections? Of course, their bickering never really stops... ;)


**Author's Notes : **This was a request from theagentofshield on Tumblr. Prompt: hurt/comfort, 00Q snuggling. This was also my first 00Q fanfiction (which I uploaded after my second one, go figure…!). Hope y'all like it, darlings!

**Disclaimer :** I own nothing of it – not even the basic idea since it was a request -, besides the fanfic itself, my writing style and the representation I make of these characters. Thank you!

**Stitches & Compassion**

It had been a tedious day. First, the task had been to recover some data from an enemy gang with the mandate to kill them all at the same time. Usually, it was a pretty normal day for him, but that's where the second comes in line… He was getting old and his rapidity and good aiming still suffered from his gunshot wound. Of course, his pride didn't approve much of going about and admitting the latter… After all, he was Bond, James Bond. He tried his best to conceal his limping for he had gotten shot in the thigh during work and nothing would stop him from delivering the important data to the Quartermaster to decipher what was encrypted in it. Even though it hurt, bled down and stained red his trousers, people of the IM6 tried to stop him, and the bitter notion that he'd have to interact with the _kid_ again was floating in his mind, he didn't slow down and kept focused on delivering the important piece for which he had killed and lost blood. True, all of this was annoying, but nothing of it was enough to drive him away from his goal – yes, even his light despisal of Q and his pain. Because that was James Bond to you. He'd fix his wound later on… He arrived in front of the Quarter and showed his ID card to the optical eye, then stepped inside and determinedly made his way to Q, whose back was turned on him as stared at the big screen who showed zigzagy graphics and sorts, fiddling with what seemed to be a sort of complicated remote in his hands. James didn't care about any of this at all and went straight to Q, standing a few inches behind him with composure – he only wanted to complete his mission.

''Here. I've retrieved it.''

Q startled, surprised to hear a cold voice behind him as he hadn't expected James to creep up on him like this – a simple sms or phone call would have worked, but he guessed that wasn't the agent's style… He turned around, holding the remote limply to his side and stretching his other arm to grab the data. When he caught it, his eyes observed it for a very small moment before narrowing as he gazed at James. ''I know I shouldn't have expected a more formal approach like calling with your intelligent cellphone or making yourself heard in a common greeting a few feet away from me so as not to scare me. But then I assume you, proud agents who think the world owes it all to you, won't settle for such curtsy.''

A small smirk appeared at the corner of James' mouth before vanishing as if it had never been there at all. The kid was maybe very clever, but he certainly didn't understand – and probably never could – the survival means and how conventions are usually not followed in a battle situation or an extreme one like the delivery of this little piece of data which cost him a bullet to his thigh.

''Now, just cut the childish nagging – it serves us nothing right now. And go back to fiddling with your toys like any kid would and decipher this. I didn't go through all this to stand and be insulted by a 20-something b-Gnnn!'' James groaned and squeezed his previously cold-looking eyes shut as a searing pain shot from his wound up to his brain. He sighed, leaning on his other thigh before straightening up, trying to mask all of this unnecessary drama. But it was too late as he noticed Q's worried expression.

He needed to remove the bullet from the wound and stitches…

He needed not talking to that kid no matter how amusing he found their usual arguments each time they saw each other. It was kind of an unofficial tradition.

''Oh! You're hurt!'' the nerd exclaimed, eyes wide as if they'd soon pop out of their sockets and his face now whiter than ever.

''Wow! You've got such keen eyes it would be hard to hide anything from you on the battle ground,'' James replied snarkily with a glint of amusement in his eyes. It was called a good payback in his world! Plus, whenever he could reply sarcastically to the nerd was simply as good as eating candies for children.

Q scowled, still green-looking though, and approached a hand to the wound and backed away just before touching it. It seemed too horrible and the mere thought of it not being treated sickened and repulsed him even more – thanks to God he hadn't noticed the agent's condescending glare. ''Maybe, but at least I'm not the one being stupidly careless enough to not have gone to the infirmary first. Why didn't you, by the way? Oh. No, wait. I know : Pride!''

As Q looked around, observing something and shaking his head slightly in reproach, Bond smirked – the kid had good replies when he wanted and a good instinct as well. However, if he linked pride to completing one's mandate professionnally, so be it. But whatever he thought or said, James had to go – his job was now done and it hurt like a bastard taking too long to be found and wiped off the surface of the Earth.

''I'm going there right now, anyway. Be sure to decipher this for tomorrow – M will want to be informed as soon as dawn breaks,'' he said, spinning on his heel.

''No, you're not! Sit down!'' Q commanded in an authoritarian voice that seemed too tight even for him, clenching his right fist. He pointed at the chair to his left as efficiently as a statue would.

James frowned and turned to him, blood now not only staining his pierced trousers but also dripping down his leg onto his shoes and the white floor. ''Excuse me, but if you haven't noticed, I'm bleeding all over the place – I need stitches. May I also remind you that _you_ even told me I should go to the infirmary. Also, probably you can't imagine it, Mr. I-never-go-out-so-I'm-as-white-as-a-vampire-but-I-think-I'm-the-best-thing-there-is, but it hurts. So, I'm going.''

''SIT DOWN!''

Q still hadn't quit pointing at the chair insistently. It was more than surprising to hear this slender young man shout… James hadn't even thought he had it in him. But it didn't matter because they glared at each other for about 30 seconds, none of them ready to give in to the other's strong character. Then, finally, James sighed and clenched his fists. He scowled as he slowly and painfully made his way to the chair. Best to see what Q had floating on his mind… He groaned, hurting as he seated himself. Meanwhile, Q went to open the third drawer of his desk and pulled out a first aid kit. ''I had a life-saving and first aid training back in high school… and I never forgot it!''

James raised an eyebrow and glanced at the box Q was holding, uncertain about whether to leave his well-being in this geek's hands or to just make a run for it before it was too late. Hm, that was a hard choice… He'd go with the kid, but first : he observed the room to make sure no one could see this. ''Don't worry. I already checked about two minutes ago: there's no one here nor supposed to arrive today besides you - but you're here -, to see you in need of my wonderful and skilled care, suffering useless humiliation,'' Q told him near his ear – for an unknown reason to James besides the fact that the kid was handsome and that their ever-lasting bickering was somehow excitedly fun -, which made him shudder but he managed to conceal it proudly. He sighed and rolled his eyes at those words, not so ready to get butchered by Q even though he was secretly curious to learn to which extent the kid's knowledge went and if he was clever with his hands. At that thought that turned dirty, James smirked and chuckled lowly, which earned him a frown from the other man. Hey, he had even told Silva when he had been tied to a chair in a seemingly abandoned warehouse with the other man sensually caressing his thighs : ''Who said it's my first time?'' Evidently, it was ''who said it's my first time with a guy?'' that had been implied. Let's say Bond never minded a bit of explicit subtext… Plus, the kid was at least 21 years old, right? Right.

''I knew youth came with arrogance and sarcasm, but I wasn't aware it also rhymed with overconfidence. I guess some reckon they're simply too gifted, now, don't you?'' James asked rhetorically, a small smile threatening at the corners of his mouth as he tried hard not to grin.

''And some just won't realise they're getting too old for this…'' retorted the young man.

James's small smile disappeared right away. He pressed his lips together in annoyance, then looked away, his left leg tapping the ground, before he glared at Q who was standing just beside him. ''Shut up.''

Q stopped what he was doing, raised an eyebrow at the man, then just chuckled, suddenly amused by James' obvious irritation. And 1 to 0 for the new Quartermaster, thank you very much! He may be young, but he sure wasn't witless like many people were. Too many of them, to be honest - it was a shame. But at least with James he could have decent, even interesting verbal fights. He carefully took out surgical forceps from the box – which he put down on the top of the desk -, then sighed, his heart rate increasing. He had once treated his own wound with a similar kit, but he had never done such a… complicated and delicate intervention such as removing the bullet from someone's body part… Putting that aside, he was certain he would succeed at it – he always did so at everything. Like being right or the most intelligent one. Great things like that, you know… So why should he be suddenly perspirating and a bit afraid of a gunshot wound? No reason… at all. The slanky geek guy would have to pluck up his courage and rescue the poor white knight in obviously desparate need of help. No, wait, that wasn't right… Why would he even think of James as such?! First, he was no white knight: he wore black, he obviously didn't own a horse nor possess an ancient armour or spear, and they were in the Modern Times… Second, Q was no maiden – he may be as frail and slim as one, but this didn't change his masculine apparel located between his legs. It was true, though, that deep in his heart he had harboured a secret desire to come to someone's rescue heroically in a scenario much like this one going on. Plus, James was also good-looking and he didn't want to admit it openly without being asked about it first or if the topic switched to this: Bond was definitely his style. But these still weren't good reasons to have imagined such a fantasy about being a fair maiden ready to save her fallen white knight, right?! No.

Oh.

So, Q took a deep breath, closed his eyes, focused his mind on treating the man, and crouched so he'd have better access to the thigh. Then, he opened his eyes and plunged the surgical forceps into the wound. James groaned loudly, to which Q reacted by screaming ''OH! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! I'M SO SORRY! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?!'' and letting go of the sterilised object – it fell to the floor in a clanking sound. James breathed hard and rolled his eyes. ''I'm fine but I think you ought to pick that up, boy…''

''Well, aren't you the kind type… '' replied Q in a venomous voice, reaching for the forceps. ''Thanks for the tip.''

James didn't add anything – he thought it was uncalled for, this time, taking into account the fact that his wound now hurt thrice more, thanks to the kid. Why did he even stay? Oh yes, curiosity and the guy's cute… Maybe he could bang him, or more… - and turned his head to the other side. Meanwhile, Q stood up, got the alcohol bottle out of the kit, uncapped it and poured some of it on the medical tool. He then proceeded to crouch again and _delicately_ inserted it in the wound, grabbing the bullet firmly.

''Maybe I am… but the worst of it is that as time goes by, it's getting even lonelier…'' admitted James in a soft voice, alluding to being insulted about being too old for this job. He wanted the kid to know about this, so he let the door to his heart a bit opened, just enough so he'd catch the drift… because he knew he would: the kid might have been annoying and proud, he was still a genius. And who said he didn't have the right to try and have more than just a few flings or… blood on his hands…? That's it: no one.

Q licked his lips and frowned, looking at James' profile as he slowly, but gently, pulled the bullet out. Was he implying… what he thought he was? Either a bad joke, a trick, or a sincere confession… He cleared his throat whilst James grunted with pain, then stood up and went to drop the bloody bullet on the desk. He took a piece of cotton and poured some alcohol on it, then came back to James and rubbed it on his wound, making sure it was all clean and disinfected before he inserted the stitches.

''How come? I heard you're rather the man…'' he said, smiling just so it would appear harmless. But he knew instantly it hadn't worked when he noticed James staring sadly at him and sighing. It was such a rare sight it made him unease… and it hurt him – go figure why, though he had an idea on that matter – to see this man that sad. Too unusual. And there was something inside Q that wanted to reach out and try to help him, comfort him the best he could… somehow. But it seemed it wasn't right or allowed by society's judgemental morals for intelligent people to think about and be inclined to love, to need it and, despite their brains, still want to offer it… It was as if one had a great brain, one must only focus on and want and need that, nothing else… They weren't robots. They were simply more intelligent people who usually _preferred_ to learn than to love, but still, it didn't mean one had to prevent oneself from feeling it or from not having both at the same time… No, it wasn't right. Q stood up and gulped, a hand lingering on James' forearm before trailing up to his bicep - then he let go. He had done it unconsciously, as a means of compassion and futile help. And, perhaps too, because it had been a few weeks he'd wanted to try and touch that man…

''Oh, I am. It's just… Let's say it all ended rather badly each and every time… It seems I can't get a bit of normality in my life without it being destroyed. Do you remember when I came back after months of being believed dead?''

Q nodded, pronouncing a ''Hm-hm'' to incite him to continue. He was now back at the desk, opening a small bag of stitches as he gazed at James' back – so muscular, he noticed… -, the wet cotton discarded in the small black trash can under his desk. It was interesting… how and what the agent was telling him. He didn't want to miss a bit of the tale. He wanted to learn more about this secretive and proud man everyone of the MI6 talked about and praised.

''Well, I was living with a woman – we had a good time. It was peaceful, I didn't get hurt… You can see the picture. But then, I had to come back for the threat over the MI6 was too big… Job, you know. Loyalty too. Later then, I met another woman: she was gorgeous, kind, and oh, so fun. But Silva killed her. As you see, it seems I can never have a real life, or a simili of it at least – it's always brutally taken from me. Not that I'm complaining, I'll always be there for the world and for England, but sometimes it would be great to not always end up alone… I'd love if for once they could be protected, far from the dangers of being around me…''

Q muttered something about how it was going to hurt, too caught up in James' story, then began putting the stitches in place. The man's aggrieved tone of voice left Q thoughtful… and the rest too. Okay. Maybe he had just learned James wasn't gay, but still, that didn't mean he couldn't try, right…? Try to, perhaps, get a bit closer to his heart so one day, if he were very lucky, the other one would notice him… fully. Not just as the kid, the nerd, the geek, or his best verbal fight mate. No. As more than that… One could always hope and try. But right now wasn't the time, he thought. Compassion and comfort to such unfortunate events and the broken heart of a man were in order. So, Q stood up, went behind the chair and passed an arm over James' left shoulder, reaching for the other one, and embraced him the best he could. It only lasted a few seconds. But it was enough to express everything – the feelings, the emotions, the compassion, the desire to help. None of them spoke. But as Q began to pull away, a hand tightly stopped him, grabbing his wrist firmly. James didn't seem to want to let him go, surprisingly… Maybe Q had caused a break-through – whatever it was, it made him smile sweetly. The agent rested his head on his arm for a while, still not speaking a word… then let go and cleared his throat, straightening up on his chair as if trying to regain his composure, concealing his short-lived breakdown that reflected his need for human contact and comfort.

''Well, maybe it's because you never fell in love - if it's the right term in this case - someone who rarely stepped outside so that person's always as white as a vampire and who knows she's a genius… and is maybe of the other gender…'' Q said softly in James' ear before trailing off to give the suggestive effect he meant it to have, finally trying to tempt his luck, and walking off to the desk to put away the instruments he used – truth is, he was becoming shy and his heart was beating fast from fear of what the other might reply to this, and just wanted to get away from him a bit. He didn't see James who turned a bit on his chair, stifling a groan as his leg hurt, and stared at him, a peaceful smile on his face, feeling weirdly content.

James breathed deeply, knowing what pain was to come as he stood up and slowly made his way to Q, whose back was turned on him. He shook his head and chuckled: the exact same sight as he had walked in the room about half an hour ago. Some things never changed… but others could, it seemed.

''Thanks for treating me – it looks like you could perhaps become a nurse one day if you were to run out of technological ideas, minus a few things here and there…'' he said, smiling teasingly, his eyes gleaming with a genuine amusement and gratitude.

Q startled and quickly spun on his heel – he had been lost in deep and stressful thoughts. ''Oh… erm, it's nothing really: you're welcome. But I don't think I want to do this any time soon – I prefer machines: they're easier to work with and they don't whine and groan as much,'' he said, laughing a short, nervous laugh. He pressed his lips together, gulped and licked his lips. It felt as though his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Even if it were highly improbable… He fiddled with his fingers, wishing for it, this torture, to end soon. At least James didn't seem too taken aback or repulsed by the_ not-so-subtle-hint_ given to him… that was a good thing, even if he didn't agr-

''You like tea, I hope,'' said the older of the two in a serious voice, a small smile playing on his lips now.

… Wait. WAIT! Was he really…? Noooo. He couldn't be! Q could feel cold sweat starting to drip down his forehead as waves of warmth shot through his whole body. He must be joking! Such a thing had never really happened to him. Of course he had had a few shags here and there like every other young people, but… not never a real interest. Because it was what James was trying to say, right? What he was implying… or had Q deciphered that wrong? No, Q never made such mistakes…

''Erm... Yes! Yes, of course!'' he replied, sounding a bit too hopeful and upbeat to his taste. Dammit! What would James think of him now?! He musn't lose his control. ''Why?''

James smiled softly, though victoriously. ''Then I take it you're free tomorrow at tea-time.'' He looked so proud – like a winner. A winner of Q's heart, it seemed... And perhaps Q could even win his too. Hope had never killed anybody… Well, actually, in some cases, yes, but- nevermind.

… Yes! Yes, that was exactly what James was telling him! Oh my God, he was inviting him to a date! Q could feel what people called butterflies fluttering in his stomach and a sudden urge of joy in his whole body. He smiled brightly.

''Yes… Yes, I am, but-''

''Good!'' exclaimed James, wanting to cut the conversation short. He enjoyed a good time, but too much romance and sappiness was enough… He began to walk away, leaving Q mesmerised and a bit confused over what just happened. ''I'll bring dinner here at 6 O'Clock so you won't have to go out and ruin your milky skin under the sun, okay? Later!''

James glanced at him over his shoulder as he walked toward the exit and flashed him one of his best smiles, waving him goodbye. Q smiled back, his cheeks a bit flushed, and waved back shortly before turning around to face the big screen where the encrypted data he'd have to work on was displayed as James walked out of the room. Both had amused smirks playing at the corner of their mouth – too bad they couldn't see the other's.

They'd probably have bickered for fun over whose was more amused or victorious.


End file.
